


Adoration

by klismaphilia, mechayourown



Series: Of Tears and Starlight [2]
Category: Town of Salem (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, In Love, Kisses, M/M, Moving In Together, mutual feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 19:42:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4317366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klismaphilia/pseuds/klismaphilia, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mechayourown/pseuds/mechayourown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You want...me?" Town of Salem oneshot, Framer x Jester, cowritten. Part 2 of a series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adoration

**Author's Note:**

> after requests for more Framer/Jester stuff, we came up with this. adorable as hell, hope you all think so too.

The jester found himself, one particularly cold and dreary night, waiting on the doorstep of the framer's house, his arms wrapped tightly around a tiny frame, the jacket he wore little to no use in the cold. Hesitantly, trying to ignore the shaking of his hands, he reached up to knock on the door.

In seconds, he put his hand back down, unable to even knock, finding himself more and more insecure. Standing here, in front of this house, he felt so exposed, so vulnerable. The tears were rolling down his reddened cheeks in rivulets, the jester becoming more aware with each breath he took that he shouldn't be there. Shouldn'tbehereshouldn'tbehereshouldn'tebehere, he thought, a small noise escaping his throat as he struggled to swallow.

He slumped, legs going out from under him as he sank to the floor, face pressed into shaking hands, eyes shut tightly. The framer hated him, he was useless and worthless and unimportant and he should just die already and he needed to die and they always told him...and he wasn't dead, but he should be because he was such a fool, so weak, weakweakweak...

The jester could feel the cuts on his arm under the long sleeve of his shirt, hem rubbing up against them uncomfortably. He liked the framer, the framer was nice...surely he'd understand, maybe even...? The framer had been keeping his promise, but he wasn't there last night and- the jester was so worried about him...would the framer be upset if he saw him like this? The cuts on his arm still bloody and his entire body shaking and the dark circles under his eyes?

He didn't want the framer to be upset with him- he wouldn't be able to live with himself if the framer hated him! 

He let the hot tears slide down his cheeks, freezing when they came close to the edge of his face, trying desperately to wipe at his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket. He missed the framer last night...the jester didn't want to imagine what would happen if...he'd hoped! He'd been so hopeful, their talks at night, the company...it was so nice. He didn't deserve someone that nice...the framer must have left, hadn't he? Decided he was a lost cause and-

The door swung open, the jester looking up at the noise, startled. "F-framer?" He stuttered out, eyes a bit tired from the chill of the air.  


The framer was in a bit of a frenzy. Of course the mafia had realized his continuous visit to the jester’s — worse, the Godfather had ordered him to "frame someone useful", which the framer had to do even if he knew it was a horrible idea. 

But after one night of not seeing the jester, his gut screamed at him that something terrible could happen. What if the serial killer showed up? Or the arsonist? What would happen then? Just because he missed one fucking—! 

And after finally talking to the godfather and working something out, it was established that he could keep framing the jester, as long as the jester worked with them. As weird as it was, it had worked, and the framer could tell he was very, very late to getting to the other's house. 

It wasn't, he supposed, that much of a surprise when he opened the door to find the jester crying, bloody, and kneeling down on his doorstep. 

The framer wasted no time. He bent down and pulled his — companion? Lover? — into a hug, holding him tightly and letting his hand caress the back of his head. He rocked back and forth slowly, whispering words of comfort and many apologies. The framer tenderly kissed the jester's forehead before pulling away slowly, though didn't, for an instant, relinquish the contact between them. 

"I'm so so so sorry I wasn't there last night," he muttered, squeezing the jester's arm lightly in emphasis. He didn't miss the cringe. A pang of guilt shot through him and he quickly helped the jester to his feet, leading him inside his house.

The house was a lot warmer than the jester had been expecting, his eyes quickly becoming dry from the tears and the cold outside. His hands were clinging tightly to the framer's clothing, unwilling to let go even when he supposed he should. He never wanted to let go. The framer might leave again and then he'd be alone and...!

"I-I understand," the jester replied, holding onto the other's apologies as best he could, a slight sniffle at the sight of the framer's smile, tears welling in his eyes once more. "I'm not... I can't... I j-just... I know it's me... s-sorry." He managed. The framer didn't want him anymore...who would, as fidgety and self-conscious as he was? ‘Pathetic!’ the voices screamed in his ear, the jester's breathing growing heavier by the second.

The framer's eyes lingered on him, and absentmindedly, the jester glanced down to see the pale grey sleeves of his shirt bloodied and soaked red, shaking again just with the reminder...

The voices were right. They were always right. He was uselessworthlessweakscaredshameful... he shook a little, averting his eyes from the framer's, his cracked lips in a shaky line. He flicked his tongue across the stress sores on the inside of his cheek, the framer helping him towards a chair, which the jester sat on the edge of, gingerly, pulling his arms closer to his body. The framer's house was...nice, so nice. But he wasn't- wasn't supposed to be here, was he?

The framer ruffled his eyebrows in a moment of temporary confusion — him? The jester thought it was his fault? 

Oh, right. The depression and self-loathing… The framer gave a small, reassuring smile before ruffling the other's hair. He vanished into the kitchen for a moment, the sound of clinking and the jester's sobs echoing around his house, before he returned with two mugs of hot chocolate. He handed one silently to his companion, taking a small sip of his own. 

Sitting next to the jester, the framer watched as he hesitantly took the cup. The marks on his arms were obvious, the blood still lightly dripping on his floor. It didn't matter; he could ask the janitor for a favor later. What mattered was offering the jester some good company and knowing he was loved. 

Loved. Huh. Guess the framer really was sure of his emotions to the poor soul. 

"You know, I wanted to visit you," the framer said suddenly, hoping to clear any of the doubt that jester had formed. "I love visiting you. It's my favorite part of every day. You've… consumed my thoughts." He let out a small, happy sigh. "It really hurts me that you think cutting yourself, or killing yourself, is the right way to go." He heard the jester's sharp intake of breath and the way he froze, so he decided to hold off for a moment. 

Instead of continuing, he got up and started the fire, grabbing some old clothes as well. He was back in a couple minutes, instantly but gently grabbing one of the jester's arms. The only sound in the room was of the crackling of the wood under the fire and their breathing; it kind of worked, the framer thought. The blood on the cuts was seeped into the rags, then cleaned, before the framer held out his hand for the other arm.

The jester hesitantly sat the mug down, letting the framer take his other arm, his wrist grasped with a very warm hand, as he brushed the rag across the bloody, slashed skin. The framer was careful as he did so, the jester able to notice the tenderness of the other male's touches, something he was rarely used to having. The framer's hand brushed the side of his cheek when he was finished, the jester gasping a little at the unexpected touch, before his lips curved into a tiny smile.

"You make me feel better..." the jester said, fiddling with his bloodied sleeves. "I-I like it. It's n-nice. A good feeling." He breathed, unsteady, looking at the framer, unsure of what else to say. Words were forsaking him as of late.

The framer was smiling at him too, a bit sad, but nothing that was too worrying to the jester. The jester blinked a couple times, before letting out a small giggle. "I...I looked at the stars last night...and I t-thought of you." He adds as an afterthought, assured that the framer would appreciate that. Then, he blinked quickly, remembering the prior morning. "And I saw a fairy! I was g-going to tell you last night, but..."

The framer hadn't been there. He hadn't. The jester wanted to ask why, wanted to cry, wanted to tell the framer how worried he'd been, but...the framer would get angry. Or what if he was already angry? Was he...?

He remembered the disappointed sound of the framer's voice earlier, when looking at his cuts, and the jester quickly glanced down to his feet, shaking a little. "'m sorry."  
The framer placed the rags down and clasped the jester's hands in his. "It's okay. Just, if I don't visit you again… please don't. I… want you to be safe." He let go, grabbing his mug and taking a small sip. 

"Listen… the mafia… want me to spend my nights framing people of more importance." The words were almost choked, but the framer really hoped he was able to say them with a straight face. "But there's been a kind of… proposition…" 

He sucked in a deep breath, his face turning red at the thought of what he was about to ask. For the jester to be an ally of the mafia, for him to— 

Naughty thoughts. Naughty naughty and no— that was not okay to think about someone who would break down crying at any given point. It didn't matter that, despite the chapped lips and the ruffled hair, the jester was cute. That each time he bit his lip, the framer wished it was him biting it, moving his tongue along the edges like the jester did every so often… 

The framer coughed, feeling his face be the temperature of a billion, before he realized he couldn't look at the jester and say it. He was too flustered. Instead, he opted for looking away, instead at the mug in his hands with a newfound sense of nervousness that he rarely portrayed. "It's just that— do you wanna… er… live here?" He quickly rushed to cover it up. "You don't have to! But there will be nights I can't visit, and it'd just be easier if you were here so we could see each other all the time and I won't constantly worry about you and the mafia won't have a problem with it and you're safer and… yeah."

"You...you want me...to live with you?" The jester said, positive he must have heard wrong, that there was something that hadn't been said, something he'd missed. He found his cheeks turning pink at the thought. Living...with someone he liked...with the framer...? And the framer wanted him to?

He gave a quick glance to the other, the framer nodding his head quickly, causing the jester's tiny smile to intensify, more of a smile than he thought himself capable of. He almost wanted to hug the framer, but the jester suddenly felt a lump in his throat, choking up. "You...you won't l-leave me?" He questioned, unsure of himself yet again- 'Too good to be true,' the voices had told him. 

They never lied.

The jester bit down on his lip again, looking at his feet, before he raised his eyes to meet those of his companion. "You want...me?" He asked, finally, passively enough that the framer didn't have to answer if he didn't want to. The jester's nails dug into the skin of his own palm as he let his gaze fall yet again, shifting uncertainly, feeling suddenly rather exposed in front of the framer.

The framer weaved his fingers around the jester's, stopping him on his self-harm mission. His face was still red, but had toned down greatly from relief. The jester wasn't saying no — he was just unbelieving. He didn't believe that the framer wanted him like that, so much more than anything else.

For an answer, the framer leaned in closely and pressed a chaste kiss to the jester's lips before pulling away. "I want you so much more than you know." He kissed him again, a little peck on the cheek this time. "I want you to look at stars with me." On the chin, gently. "I want to drink hot chocolate with you forever." Other cheek. "I want to hold you in my arms and cuddle." Lips. "I want to snuggle up by the fire place." 

He could feel the jester's frantic heartbeat. The jester's grip was getting tighter on his hands, as if he was clinging for dear life. In another show of affection, he brought one up and pressed a kiss to it. "I want you to be with me." Other hand. "I want you to live with me." He glanced back up, giving a soft, loving smile. "I want you to want me, too. I want you to stay with me, alive, so I can show you that life is great. You need to know that you're part of my constellation — you're the main part now. You're the gravity center. The other mafia, the town… they're for show." He swallowed, pressing another kiss to the jester's lips, this one lasting longer than before. "I want you to love me like I love you."  


The jester couldn't help letting out a few light giggles at the kisses being placed across his face and hands- especially the one on his chin. It tickled. He'd barely noticed the way his hands had tightened up around those of the framer, too content in the framer's warmth, in his closeness, in the softness of his lips...

"W-why me?" The jester asked, but quickly shook his head, light hair falling in his eyes as he did so. He blinked, quickly, eyelids fluttering as he met the warm grey eyes of the framer, feeling his entire face flushing. He loved the framer...? He did, he really did! The jester's hand reached up to grasp the back of the framer's neck, hesitantly pressing forward so their lips met again, a bit unsure at the soft, unblemished feeling of the framer's lips against his own, chapped and cracked and blistered. 

The framer's tongue flicked out to lick at his bottom lip, the jester allowing a little gasp as he allowed the other to press forward into his mouth, finding the framer to taste of chocolate and perfection. Well... he didn't know if perfection had a taste, but if it did, it was the framer.

When the framer pulled away, the jester's arms wrapped around his back almost immediately, clinging to the framer. The framer wasn't going to leave him! The framer...he loved him? Yes, he did, he just said so, and the jester wanted to believe him so badly...! "I love you," the jester managed to say, tightening his grip on the framer. Then, he said, a little louder, "I really really love you!"

He supposed that made it sound more real.  


The framer grinned, laughing loudly and joyously, before pulling the jester in for another kiss. The framer was the same as usual; self-assured, knew how to move his lips, brought the jester under him… but the jester responded this time. 

The jester's tongue hesitantly answered the framer's coaxing. Their lips moved in sync. It was different, the framer noted, how much better it felt when the jester seemed more confident and accepting. 

The framer pulled away after a moment, letting their foreheads touch, their noses brushing lightly. "I'm so glad," he mentioned, eyes clearly tearing up a bit. "I love you, too. Probably have since I first laid eyes on you."  


The jester could feel the framer's hot breath across his face, the closeness of their faces. He was staring directly into those grey eyes, watching the life they held, the joy they seemed to sparkle with...for him? It was for him, of all people, the useless one, the one who the world was better off without?

The framer loved him?

The jester's hands tightened in the fabric of the framer's shirt, his breathing growing heavier, body starting to relax within the reach of his lover. The framer was so close to him, so protective of him, so loving... he didn't deserve it, but... it was nice. The jester allowed himself to ease into the feeling of the framer's body against his, the words the framer was saying to him that there was no doubt he meant. 

He was loved.


End file.
